


Voice Acting

by TheFaustOne



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Smutty, Voice Acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaustOne/pseuds/TheFaustOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post High-Rise production, Tom finds himself in a slump that he can't seem to shake off. A random email helps him get back on track in the most interesting way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice Acting

**Author's Note:**

> I read High-Rise a while back, and imagine spending months making a movie out of it might mess with a person. I also tend to think that Tom (along with plenty of other celebrities,) gets a little weary of life in the public eye. The anonymity of what he's about to do is probably very appealing to some.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Journal  
Late September, 2014

I remember our very first time. I can still hear the London rain smattering outside my open window, and the occasional whoosh of a slow car passing by on the wet street below.  
I’d been irritable for weeks; on one of my rare low slides into apathy and depression. I’m an excitable, jovial bloke by nature, but even the stoutest of hearts get beaten into the ground once-in-a-while.

I was exhausted; completely drained of caring for anything or anyone. If it wasn't the insane filming schedules, chaotic promotional tours, or redundant interviews, it was the constant exposure to prying eyes spotting me wherever I went during downtime, or wading through the long lines of fans waiting outside the set each evening. All of it had taken a great toll on my spirit.

High Rise was a wrap, I was back in London, and although I should have been relieved for the break and elated to be home, I found myself more and more restless instead.  
Food had no taste. Sleep evaded me. I made no effort to reach out to friends or family, and avoided accepting their calls. I was in a funk, and I had no idea why.  
I tried to shake it off. The self-shaming approach didn't work. Every time I told myself I should be grateful for my many blessings, the emptiness inside me rioted with mocking laughter.

The distraction method did me no good, either. I returned from a late run, showered, and dropped the towel on the bathroom floor feeling no better than before.  
Padding through my flat, I made an indifferent appraisal of the place. Dirty laundry lay wherever I’d taken it off. Random shoes and mismatched socks littered the living room and hall. Boxes of takeaway were piled on end tables. The kitchen sink was unusable; a mountain of unwashed dishes spilling out and onto the counter.

Pausing for a moment, shirtless there in my kitchen, I scratched at the crotch of my boxer-briefs and considered my surroundings. Drops from my still-damp hair splashed uneven beats on my shoulders, sliding down my bare arms and chest as I contemplated what had brought me and my home to such an unkempt state.

Perhaps it was the residual spirit of Robert Laing still lingering in my character. The realization that the role and plot of the film had mind-fucked me was nothing new. How Ballard managed to function with such deep, disturbing ideas creeping around his brain was more than a wonder.

Bored and agitated, I flopped down into the black leather chair at my desk and opened my laptop. My email was crammed with messages from my agent, publicist, sisters, and friends. I skipped over all of them searching for anything to resurrect me from this stupor; anything to make me feel something again.

It was in my junk folder. On a normal day I would have emptied the entire contents of that folder without even looking at the messages, but tonight as I trolled through them one subject line in particular caught my eye.

‘Release Your Fantasy Tonight.’

Perhaps it was the depravity of High-Rise still being filtered out of my blood that made me open that message. I stared at the computer screen; it glowing an eerie, hypnotizing blue in my darkened flat. Topless, big-busted women angled into crude positions invited me to play with them. Bare asses bent into the air, mouths open and waiting for me to fill them, females stroking themselves in anticipation all called to me like sirens. Promises that even my most debase desires would be fulfilled flashed across the advertisement. 

‘Call now.’

A millisecond of hesitation passed, and then I clicked on the link to open Pandora’s Box.

My browser opened to a website where I was treated to even more visual debauchery. I was doing something naughty by being there, and for the first time in months the thrill of being alive rushed through my veins. My nerves were on fire as I searched through the girls, shopping their profiles for the one who could exorcise my listlessness. I was already hard from just thinking of what she might say to me and the possibilities of what we would act out.

It was perfect. I am an actor after all, and what better way for me to find myself again than to play a role of my own design, spawned by my imagination and most secret, repressed sexual cravings. 

I passed over the fetishes, BDSM, and transgenders. This was my first phone sex experience, and I thought it best to stick with what I knew. I wasn’t looking for a pure girl either, just a regular one who would give me what I wanted, plain as that. 

On the second page I found her: dark hair up in a long, sleek ponytail, full red lips twisted into a teasing smirk, and a smoldering come-hither look twinkling in her eyes. Her white blouse was unbuttoned, revealing a black bra that pushed-up her plump tits and created a valley of luscious cleavage. I envisioned running my tongue down its center, and then pumping my dick in and out of it until I lathered her breasts with my hot, creamy cum. 

Oh, this was going to be such fun!

I got up and tore my place apart in search of my mobile, stomping back to the leather chair and swiveling around in it. 

Who cared how much she cost per minute. I’d stay on the phone for as long as it took to wash away the complacency ruining my existence. 

My hands trembled with anticipation as I punched-in her number. The phone rang, and my mouth went dry.

What would I say?

What would she think of me?

A steamy welcome message played through before an automated attendant instructed me to select my method of payment. Panic ripped through me at the thought of my full name and credit card being linked to such an indecent operation, but I couldn't let that stop me. I needed this. The site assured total privacy, after all. It wasn't as if tomorrow’s headlines would read ‘Tom Hiddleston Has Phone Sex.’ I raced for my wallet, entered the numbers, and then pressed # to process the sale.

This was it.

I was really going to do it.

I was about to masturbate while some stranger purred vulgarities into my ear.

An operator came on the line, asked for my name and to describe what I was looking for. 

“I, I, I,” I stuttered, expecting a husky female panting some erotic greeting instead. “Tom. I’m Tom. I just….”

Fuck.

What did I want?

“I just want to talk to Veronica.”

Again, the operator asked me to elaborate. What was I into? What were my kinks? She explained that Veronica needed to be ready for me, and if I told her what I wanted then Veronica would be better prepared to pleasure me. 

“It’s my first time,” I confessed, feeling like an utter twat. “I thought she would be the one telling me….”

“Ah, I see,” the operator sympathized. “Then you picked a good one. Veronica’s really attentive, and she’ll treat you right. Hold, please.”

There was a click, and then silence on the line. My palms broke out in a sweat, and my heart ricocheted in my chest.

It was already wonderful.

I was feeling again.

Boyish exuberance bubbled up inside of me, and I released a fiendish giggle of delight.

“Well you sound happy tonight,” a smooth, sultry voice startled me.

“Uh….” 

I had no clue of how to respond. I was on the phone with a woman who was paid – who I was paying – to get me off.

How many nasty things had she told so many other men?

What taboo indulgences had she submitted to?

“So, this is your first time, Sugar?” Veronica asked.

I nodded into the receiver and cleared my throat. “Yes.”

She must have noticed the quiver in my voice, because her next instructions were intended to relax me.

“We’ll go slow then,” Veronica soothed. “Do you have something to drink nearby?”

I scanned my desk. “No.”

“Go get something. You’ll need it.”

Cinching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I poured a tumbler full of vodka, the ice clinking against its sides as I dropped the cubes in.  
“Okay.”

“Now I want you to get comfortable. Lay on your sofa, in your bed, wherever.”

I returned to the desk chair, wanting to keep Veronica’s image nearby for stimulation. “Alright.” The refreshing burn of vodka slid down my throat as I gulped from the glass. “I’m ready.”

“Where are you? Describe it to me.”

I closed my eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath. “I’m in my flat. It’s dark, no lights. Raining outside, and the window’s open. I’m sitting in a chair.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Boxer-briefs.”

“That’s all?” 

“That’s all.”

“Well, Tom,” Veronica hummed in my ear. “You’ve just brought me home, and now I’m on my knees in front of your chair. My hands are skimming up the insides of your thighs, and you know where they’re headed.”

My member twitched, and I swallowed hard. I could almost feel her fingers tracing over my underwear, and the mounting anticipation was excruciatingly glorious.

“I’m staring up at you, Tom,” Veronica elaborated. “And I keep my eyes on you as I reach in and pull out your huge, aching cock.”

My right hand moved to do just that, freeing my erection and gripping it just as she would.

“You’re so big, Tom,” Veronica cooed, and I imagined her eyes going wide at the sight of my prick. “I can’t wait to taste you, baby.”

“Do it,” I croaked. I spat in my palm and licked the pad of my thumb. “Put your mouth on me, Veronica.”

“I’m licking you, Tom,” and my hand slid up my shaft as my thumb massaged my head. “Do you feel me, baby?”

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing over the small hole at my tip. “Fuck, yes I feel you.”

“Now I’m sucking on you, Tom. I’m sucking hard, and you feel so good in my hot, wet mouth.”

I moaned into my empty flat, pumping my cock with the vision of fucking Veronica’s face playing behind my eyelids.

“You’re hard as a rock, Tom,” and I was. 

The strokes came faster and all I wanted was more. 

More of her filthy lips gliding over my flesh.

More of her explicit descriptions ringing in my ears. 

More images of me smearing my semen all over her pretty face.

“Do you want to keep fucking my mouth, or do you want me to bend over so you can shove your dick in my tight, throbbing pussy, Tom?”

“Oh, bend over baby. Bend over and let Tom fuck you proper.”

“I’m on my hands and knees, naked and waiting for you, Tom,” Veronica painted the scene with her words. “My ass is in the air. You can stick it in there too, if you want.”

“I’m gripping your hips, kneeling behind you,” I returned, really getting into my role now. “I’m going to take you on the floor like an animal. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you dirty slut.” 

“Yes, Tom,” Veronica whispered, and I heard as much desperation in her voice as there was in my own. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can taste it when you cum.”

Pre-cum leaked from my head, and my balls yearned for release. Every fiber of my being was exposed and raw, amplifying each sensation. The black leather beneath me, sticky with my sweat, the breeze rolling in through the window pushing the curtain back and dancing across my chest, the slick sound of spit sliding up and down my shaft, and Veronica’s smutty, heavy breaths in the receiver – all of it propelled me up and out into the ultimate sensory overload. 

“I’m fucking you, Veronica,” I rasped, squeezing my erection to simulate her snug pussy. “Can you feel it, my cock stretching and tearing you? I’m slamming into your cunt over and over again, and you’re screaming for me to keep going. It’s dripping for me, baby. You want it so bad.”

“Yes, Tom, yes!” Veronica howled in response. “I feel you fucking me. I’m rubbing my clit for you, Tom. Your prick feels so good inside me. I’m close, Tom. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

I exploded just then, rocketing into some other world previously unknown to me. Never in my life had I cum so hard. My entire body quaked with spasms, and my eyes rolled back as I surrendered to the raunchy euphoria of phone sex. Semen spurted into the air while I jacked-off through my orgasm, spilling over the leather seat and dripping down onto the rug.

I was cured.

All of the passive lethargy, all of the dispassion and aimlessness of the past weeks had vanished from me. All of Creation thrummed with new life and endless possibilities. The world was once again my oyster.

“Fuck!” I panted, choking every last tingle of delight from my abused cock. 

I let it go, and it fell limp in my lap. Reaching for my glass, I considered the woman on the other end of the line.

“Do you ever cum when you talk to your clients?” I asked after taking another swallow of vodka. 

Veronica giggled, and I sensed that a bond of some sort had formed between us.

“I did tonight.”

“Hmm, we should both sleep well then, I imagine,” I replied with a grin.

“Tom?” Veronica’s voice came over the phone as I began to drift away.

“Yes?”

“Do you think you’ll ever call again?”

I opened my eyes and spun the chair around to look over at the laptop. Veronica’s photo was still there, and I wondered if that was what she really looked like.

It didn't matter.

She was good for what ailed me, and that’s all I needed to know.

“Tomorrow night?” I offered, already looking forward to what we’d get into. “Same time?”

“You’ve got a date, Tom,” Veronica agreed, and I could hear the smile in her sweet voice. 

“See you then.”

I remained in the chair for a while after we hung up, assuming that Veronica would take several more calls over the course of the night. It didn’t bother me to think of her talking to other men. As long as we got to share our minutes alone, I would be satisfied. 

I clicked out of the website and moved the soliciting email out of my junk folder before shutting down the laptop. I would be needing it again….

The repercussion of insomnia weighed heavy on my eyelids, and I was happy in the knowledge that a good rest was coming to me at last. Tossing my underwear into the laundry basket, I vowed to clean the place up tomorrow and crawled into bed.

The rain still pattered away outside, lulling me with its gentle rhythm. 

A content sigh escaped as I considered the events of the night.

Phone sex, or ‘voice acting,’ as they called it.

Cheaper than therapy, and so very effective.

Who knew?

**Author's Note:**

> This could possibly go on. Many, many ideas on what Tom and Veronica could explore on their next call(s), and interesting to think of how their relationship would develop and how it affects Tom's life. Let me know your thoughts!


End file.
